


Derek Hale, The Hero Beacon Hills Needs: Issue #1

by MellytheHun



Series: Derek Hale, The Hero Beacon Hills Needs [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Protective Derek, Rescue, Romance, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7160054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This series started with this Tumblr prompt, "it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au</p>
<p>Stiles is walking home when he's stalked by a dangerous stranger and an even more dangerous stranger comes to his rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek Hale, The Hero Beacon Hills Needs: Issue #1

“Please work, please work, please work, please work -”  


Stiles’ fingers fumble the last quarter into the slot and he waits anxiously for a dial tone. He’s still looking over his shoulder, trying to see past the aged fog on the plastic of the telephone booth - trying to see if that stranger is anywhere close. He can’t see anything through the dark and the rain, though.

And he should have been paying attention to what his fingers were doing.

When he hears the other end of the call picked up, his heart kicks into overdrive, relieved and insanely frightened all at once. He bulldozes through any tired greetings - he knows it’s two in the morning and he doesn’t have the courage or patience at the moment to hear Scott bitch about it.

“Scott - listen, I’m sorry I probably woke you up, but someone - someone is following me. The Jeep broke down on Kennedy and it’s on the side of the road, but my cellphone’s dead and I can’t get a fuckin’ tow truck and this is a fuckin’ horror movie opening, Scott! It’s raining and it’s dark, my cellphone’s dead, I’m alone, my car broke down and now I’m being followed by someone and I am not interesting enough to be the main character of a horror movie, Scott! I’m a secondary character at best! And everyone knows first guy on screen dies! Please, please, _please_ come pick me up - I was able to walk to the annoying intersection between Calhoun and DeRenne where the left turn light only stays green for like point two seconds - you know the one -”  


He hears something loud outside the phone booth, but it’s definitely not thunder. He presses the phone closer to his ear and huddles more in on himself, looking out of the damaged plastic phone booth casing despite his inability to see anything of substance.

“Scott,” Stiles whispers, “Scott - I think he found me. I gotta, I gotta hang up, I think? I should probably stay quiet… please get here as soon as you can. I really don’t wanna be the dies-before-the-opening-credits-even-start-rolling guy. Please get here. Fast.”  


He’s so nervous, he hangs up before getting any sort of affirmation from Scott, but if he picked up and listened for that long, odds are that Scott’s already on his way. Stiles only hopes Scott makes it to him in time - if he were in his Jeep, it’d still be a twenty minute drive to Scott’s house from here. And Scott doesn’t exactly have a head start here.

Stiles’ eyes are wide and he’s not blinking much - just glancing around at every other shadow that passes over the phone booth.

He hears the loud noise again and he can tell what it is now - it’s a bat. It’s a metal bat. Someone is beating it against what sounds like a dumpster. His heart is somewhere in his throat - he should have charged his phone battery before leaving the house, he should have brought Roscoe in for repairs weeks ago, he should have left the party before midnight, but no - now he’s here, being stalked by a maniac with a metal bat and he’s probably going to die.

“I was so hoping my death would have more Viper car chases and explosions involved…” Stiles mutters regretfully to himself, cracking his knuckles nervously, “…and maybe the Kill Bill sirens… or at least a musical number…”  


He glances around, hears another bang and his head swivels to the right. Two blocks down, through the blur of the scratched up plastic and the violent downpour, he can see a huge silhouette. The person is dragging something along the ground - the metal bat, Stiles presumes. 

Seeing his hypothesis legitimized isn’t even what scares him - it’s the fact that he knows the silhouette can see him too. There are no eyes to see from this distance, there is no obvious noise coming from either of them, but he can feel the stare boring into him. He’s caught and he’s cornered.

He glances at the less-than-sturdy door of the booth and sees a lock, which he flips. He doesn’t think it will count for much. Maybe give him a few seconds more of thinking time, but any barrier between him and this psycho is better than none.

The hulking silhouette drags the bat up from off the shining sidewalk and rests it against his shoulder. He starts walking toward the phone booth with a slow swagger - he’s already won. He’s going to fucking kill Stiles and his smugness is a tangible energy. 

Stiles imagines this is a lot like what it’s like when someone sees the first wave of a tsunami building, or they see the start of a landslide or the beginning of ice crumbling before an avalanche tumbles down a mountainside. The danger is gigantic, terrifying and there is absolutely nothing to do but watch it come for him. 

Stiles’ hands are shaking and without taking his eyes off his shrouded stalker, he imagines his father. Tears start to build in his eyes - his father is likely the one who will find his mutilated body. He’ll be one of the first on the scene. Stiles will be so unrecognizable from the bludgeoning, they’ll bring him in and it will _destroy_ his father - some small broken noise makes its way out of his throat and his stomach knots up as his stalker grows closer.

He has his back against the phone, facing the oncoming landslide and once the hooded man makes it to the booth, Stiles realizes he has no idea who this person is. It’s a stranger. 

The first thought that comes to him is that it will be so much harder to catch his murderer due to this fact. He can see his father poring over folders and case files and not understanding why he can’t fucking figure out who killed his only child - and then the bat hits the plastic.

Stiles jumps and screams, throwing himself even further back, which really only results in the phone box digging painfully into his already rigid spine. The plastic bends, but doesn’t break. The man strikes again, leaving a deep scuff and the hot tears that had been building start spilling. He strikes again and again and then he moves toward the door. He rattles it so furiously, Stiles is more scared by that ferocity than he is of the bat.

The man starts beating at the door with the bat, thunder booms and Stiles is convulsing. The lock isn’t secure - this booth is old and this man is strong and Stiles is going to _fucking die_.

The bat finally breaks through the plastic like the axe from The Shining and Stiles scrambles to the wall opposite the door, with only a few feet between him and his attacker. He’s crying now, loudly, groping at the walls, unable to take his eyes away from the man beating his way into the booth. He strikes four, maybe five times more, the door almost entirely decimated when, in a blur of dark movement, his attack disappears completely.

Stiles blinks, trying hard to catch his breath, but he just can’t seem to. He’s too scared to lean forward and see what’s happened, but soon he doesn’t need to because he sees someone else - another strong, unidentifiable man, now wielding the bat. He’s wearing a leather jacket that’s glistening in the rain - his hair too. He takes one swing at Stiles’ assailant’s head and then there’s an eerie silence. 

Stiles is frozen against the plastic wall and then this new man stands up, drops the bat, a little out of breath himself. He walks up to the booth - Stiles doesn’t recognize him. He is very handsome with technicolored eyes and ebony hair. He extends a hand to Stiles - a hand that has some blood splatter on it.

“Are you okay?”  


His voice is deep and serious and Stiles, regardless of his electrified nerves, feels a melting sensation in his chest - he feels safe. 

“Wh-who are you?”  


“I’m not Scott.”  


Stiles cocks a brow, another tear absently falling down his face, “…what?”

“You called me,” the man explains, “You must have misdialed. You were asking for a person named Scott. I tried to tell you that you had the wrong number, but I couldn’t exactly get a word in.”  


Stiles lets out a nervous laugh without smiling, anxiety setting in like exposure - cold and coiling. This man’s hand is still extended to him, patiently waiting.

“Why - you came to save me?”  


“Couldn’t let you die before the opening credits,” the man jokes drily.   


Stiles laughs again, a little more sincerely and another tear falls - he’s such a clusterfuck of anxiety and relief, he has no idea what to do. He spent the last half hour trying to outrun a stranger and now he’s looking to run into the arms of another.

“What’s your name?”  


“Derek.”  


“H-hi, Derek. I’m Stiles… I’m - I’m super glad I’m not dead right now…”  


Derek’s lips quirk, nearly a smile and he replies, “you’re welcome. Take my hand, Stiles. Let’s get you somewhere safe. The police are on their way.”

“They - wait - they are?”  


Derek nods, “I called them as I left my apartment - if you hadn’t told me what intersection you were at, I don’t know if I would’ve gotten to you in time.”

Shaking still, Stiles takes Derek’s hand and while the blood is gross, Derek’s hand is broad and comforting and Stiles’ legs turn to jelly. He practically falls out of the booth, right into Derek, but Derek catches him by the shoulders, keeping him upright. 

“Can you stand still for a second?”  


Stiles nods, but Derek doesn’t seem to trust it. He only takes one hand off Stiles at a time to remove his leather jacket. He throws it over Stiles’ shoulders and - it’s enormous on him. But it’s warm. It’s very warm and it’s soft inside and it smells like a nice cologne. He’s tugging it around his torso more and then before he realizes what’s happening, Derek’s picking him up in a bridal carry and walking him away from the street corner.

“H-hey, I can walk on my own!”  


“No, you really can’t,” Derek replies, smiling a little, “Besides, you’re barely a hundred pounds. Don’t worry about it.”  


Stiles glares at the side of Derek’s handsome face until he turns to Stiles and cocks a bold brow at him.

“What? I’m just trying to get you somewhere warm.”  


“I dunno, man,” Stiles starts suspiciously, “I thought this was a horror movie opening, but now I’m starting to think this looks a lot like a LifeTime romance special.”  


The rain is still coming down heavily and thunder rolls, but Stiles isn’t frightened by it. Derek’s calm is bleeding into him somehow.

“How do you figure that?” Derek smirks.  


“Young man’s life is in imminent danger on a dark, stormy night when a devastatingly handsome stranger suddenly sweeps in, rescues him and then literally carries him to safety?”  


“Devastatingly handsome, you say?”  


Stiles blushes and groans with annoyance, but he’s starting to smile and the tears have stopped. He’s still shaking a little, but the jacket is definitely helping soothe his nerves.

“I’ve just seen a lot of trash romance novellas in airport gates that had covers a lot like this. Except it was usually a scantily clad woman being carried by a werewolf or something.”  


Derek chuckles at that, “if only you were a scantily clad woman, then everything would add up.”

Stiles genuinely laughs at that, then shamelessly tucks his head into the crook of Derek’s neck. He is a very warm person and his jacket and his hair and his skin all smell very nice. His slippery converse shoes squeak over each other as he rubs his feet together anxiously. 

He hears police sirens in the distance and sort of nuzzles his forehead against Derek’s neck before saying, “well, dang, Derek. You’re my hero.”

Derek’s neck gets hot and Stiles thinks that maybe Derek is bashful. He is liking Derek more by the second.

“Don’t mention it, Stiles.”  


Stiles lets his eyelids droop - he’s too anxious to sleep, but his body is relaxing and Derek will keep him safe. He feels quite sure of that.

Derek will keep him safe.


End file.
